Waiting For Death
by DeMoKa
Summary: fleurslashhermione Fleur must watch her love die a painful and slow death, ironically, it's something neither wizard nor muggle can cure.


**Title:** Waiting For Death

**Rating:** PG-13

**Genre:** Angst

**Length:** drabble - 650

**Pairing:** Fleur/Hermione

**Summary: **Fleur must watch her love die a slow and painful death and there's nothing she can do about it. (Yes, I'm feeling angsty again)

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling's work, all of it! I just fan it!

**Prompt:** 050. Hollow

'It hurts,' muttered Hermione, clutching at her chest as she violently hacked up some blood.

Fleur's heart ached every time she saw the pained expression of her lover, of her Hermione. The day the healers at St Mungo had informed them that Hermione had an acute case of a later stage of pneumonia, Fleur had cried out in shock and disbelief. Hermione, on the other hand, had merely stood nodding, almost as if she had been expecting it. It was painful for Fleur because she should have realised all along, during the war, that all they did was taxing Hermione especially since she was attacked with the Cruciatus curse, and then contracted the flu. Ironically, the generally harmless virus had attacked Hermione's system as viciously as the Death Eaters had attempted to tear them apart from each other.

Captured and alone, Hermione had been tortured endlessly, yet maintained her sanity with thoughts of reuniting with Fleur. With their sadistic cruelty, the Black sisters, Narcissa and Bellatrix had joined forces to strip Hermione of the little dignity she had left and forced her to pleasure them while completely naked. Fortunately Fleur, Harry and Ron had been able to track them down, kill them and rescue Hermione. Yet as it would happen, Hermione didn't stop fighting at all. Fleur had been worried and had wanted her to rest before rejoining the battles, but Hermione had stubbornly taken out her wand ready to fight. Fleur decided to stay as close as possible instead of nagging.

Now, Fleur wished she had nagged for all she was worth, because now, Hermione's little cold had progressed into full blown pneumonia, which at an early stage would have been curable. However Hermione's ravaged body could not take the beatings any longer and she was gradually deteriorating, slowly fading away into nothingness. Fleur watched on in horror day after day, as her lover fought for life, becoming a skinny stick, rivalling anorexic models. She did her best, keeping a sad smile whenever Hermione looked at her, which was often, trying to remain optimistic. She did her best to make Hermione feel comfortable, she really did. Yet there was nothing she could do to relieve Hermione's hollow and wracking coughs. There was nothing that she could do but wait patiently, hoping that the healers can find a cure before…… Before it's too late.

'Je suis desolee, 'Ermione,' murmured Fleur, stroking Hermione's sweaty brow with a damp towel.

Hermione opened a bleary eye at her, 'For what, my love?'

'For not being a nagging cow and forcing you to sleep and rest,' replied Fleur bitterly.

Hermione would have laughed, but it would have caused another fit of horrid coughs, so she stopped herself. Fleur realised her mistake and kissed Hermione's cheek tentatively.

'I did it again, I'm such an uncaring woman,' she sighed.

Hermione shook her head slightly, 'There was nothing anyone could do. I had to fight, we all had too. It's just too bad that I… was captured at one stage.'

A tear dropped at the memory, Fleur felt her heart break and she gently hugged Hermione, trying to give any comfort.

'I wish that I 'ad been there, to stop them. I wish we 'ad found you sooner,' sobbed Fleur.

'But you did find me and here I am,' murmured Hermione, wincing at the pain in her lungs.

'Oui, for that I am truly grateful,' whispered Fleur, as Hermione let out another hollow hacking cough, the sounds reverberating throughout the desolate and sterile hospital room.

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Fleur felt as hollow as the coffin should have been, it should not have been filled. Hermione's lungs had collapsed with exhaustion, even with the frantic attempts of artificial breathing, it was too late. Fleur clutched at Hermione's favourite shirt, savouring its lingering scent of her. Though her heart was empty, it was also full of the memories of their love.

**Why am I writing this depressing stuff? Damn, I should have chosen a happier filled prompt table….. /**

**Well, how did I do? Did I make you sad? Review! **


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